A Vampire in Wolf's Clothing
by Stella Purple
Summary: In the land of eternal winter, a family lives peacefully in a castle. Unbeknown to its residence, a vampire lives among them. Across the lands, a child needs a guiding hand from the path of destruction. Unbeknown to others, monsters raise from the dark to once again claim their marks and rule the lands.
1. See

**This story is marked** **mature** **for obvious reason.**

This is a commissioned work that I'm posting with the client's written consent. If you like this work, and are interested in getting your own custom story, feel free to order a commission story with me.

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 **Tags : non-con, girlxgirl, multiple penetration.**

For those who have read my other works before, be warned that this commissioned story is completely different from what I usually write.

* * *

 **A Vampire is Wolf's Clothing**

 _In the land of eternal winter, a family lives peacefully in a castle. Unbeknown to its residence, a vampire lives among them._

This story is unedited.

* * *

 ** _See_**

Bran Stark releases his arrow for the tenth time. It streaks on a barrel, a few meters away from his actual target. His older brother, Robb, pats him on the back as Bran exhales in frustration. Amethyst, their family tutor, watches the exchange from the distance and decides to approach them.

"Better luck next time," Robb tries to cheer him up, though it does nothing much to boast his younger brother's confidence.

"I'll never get this right," Bran says defeated.

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance?"

The woman that is approaching them wears an elegant silver mask. It covers up her entire face, the sockets too dark to see the eyes. She wears thick white cotton coat and a lovely grey dress underneath. Her hands are covered with gloves. She wears boots, just like the rest of them, but she manages to make them appear elegant.

"What do you know about archery?" Robb asks her. Not out of disrespect, but out of curiosity. As far as he knows, Amethyst is the master of arithmancy, history and biology. He has never seen her wield a bow and arrow before. Then again, he has seen her go out into the woods alone and come back with some fresh meat.

Bran allows her to help him into position. He places a new arrow in place and raises his arms, but she notices that his posture is too tense. Amethyst places a hand on his right shoulder, trying to calm his nerves.

"First thing first, you have to be relax. Don't raise your elbow too tight. Make sure that it is align with your shoulder." She watches as he does as she tells, calming his nerves and stopping the shakes. Then she moves to place her other hand on his left shoulder. "Keep your grip still, Bran. Breathe in, breathe out. See that target? Go get it."

Bran releases the arrow. This time, it launches right into the heart of the target. He gaps in surprise, not believing what his eyes are seeing. _He made it!_ He cannot help but jump in joy.

"Every well done, Bran," Amethyst praises him, and though he cannot see her face he knows that she is smiling underneath. "But remember, practice makes it perfect. Go try a few more. I'll watch."

Robb is speechless. He has been trying to teach his brother for a few weeks now, but not a single arrow has every pierce the target. But Amethyst comes and Bran makes his first success. He cannot help but feel a little bit of jealousy. This is supposed to be their thing, him and his brother's.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to steal your moment with Bran," Amethyst reads his thoughts. "But you have to know that you are doing a great job at his teacher. It's just that with every student, they requirement different attention. Just because this method worked for you, doesn't mean it will for him."

"Thanks," Robb mutters. "And don't. I know that you don't mean ill."

Bran shoots another arrow. This time, it lands at the edge of the target, only missing an inch from the earlier arrow.

"You're pretty good at this."

"Well, I don't want to flaunt, but it is my area of expertise," Amethyst admits proudly, making Robb smiles.


	2. Hear

**_Hear_**

The sound of heavy steps announces the arrival of their guests. The king and his family are visiting the Stark. All of the members of the Stark's residence welcomes them inside the gates. Amethyst is only a few meters away, watching from the backline of the crowd.

Lord Eddard Stark greets his friend and king. He introduces his children, and the king calls on his son, Joffrey.

The boy has an arrogant streak. Amethyst can see that just by glancing at his face. Yet, it seems like Sansa has taken a liking to him. She watches the exchange of look the two shares from afar.

What do we do? This does not look good. Amethyst worries for what fate will come to the girl she raises. She does not believe that Sansa getting acquaintant with the blonde boy will turn up for the better.

While the others are getting busy introducing one another and unpacking, Amethyst seeks for Bran. The boy seems to develop some unhealthy interest in climbing high places lately.

Two days ago, she even spotted Bran trying to climb on a tower at the edge of the castle. There is no one else in that area. She just so happened to be passing by when he almost slipped of in mid-climbing.

She caught him just in time. Of course, she must have sprint like crazy just to make sure that she got to him in time. It was considered cheating in her code. But no matter. As long as he is safe, she is willing to break any code.

Bran had asked her to keep this activity of his a secret from everyone else. Amethyst agreed as long as he would ask for her presence the next time he decides to climb the wall again.

On her way to the abounded tower, Amethyst witnesses Lord Tyrion arguing with his nephew, Prince Joffrey. They seem to be in a disagreement.

She does not wish to make her presence know. That is, until she hears a slap ringing to her ears. It is so audible that she bets it must have hurt. She turns back to see Joffrey rubbing his cheek.

He tries to make a comeback, but ends up getting another slap. Again, then again.

Alright. That is it.

"Sir." The two of them turns to find a masked woman approaching. "Please. We do not tolerate physical harm towards children in here," she says softly, making sure to keep her anger content.

Truly, she bets that Joffrey must have deserved the slap. She can hear the sharpness of his tone even from afar. Still, she does not like seeing children being abused.

"I. Am. Not. A Child!" comes Joffrey's hiss. His glare bores into Amethyst, but she stares back like it is nothing.

Intrigued, Tyrion asks, "And who might you be, m'lady?"

"Greetings, Lord Tyrion. My name is Amethyst. I am the tutor of the Stark children," she gives a courteous bow, though not meaning any respect. The gesture is just that: curtesy.

Turning to Joffrey, she asks, "Would you like some ice for that, Prince?"

Her question must have offended her, because Joffrey yells out a "No!" before walking away. The man standing behind him, she just notices, follows him. He is his guard, and he did nothing to defend him?

"Ignore him, m'lady," she hears Tyrion says from behind her. "I apologize for the display, but the child needs some teaching."

"Please, Sir. It is no need to call me a lady. My name is Amethyst," she holds out her hand, which seems to be a pretty bold move considering the difference of their class. As expectedly, though, Tyrion accepts and shakes it.

"You're different," he comments, not breaking eye contact.

"Thank you. Now, if you would excuse me. I have a child to take care," she excuses herself politely.


	3. Touch

**_Touch_**

Amethyst witnesses in horror as a man pushes Bran off the window of the tower. She knows that by the gap of distance from across the field, she will have to break the code purposefully.

In less than a second, Amethyst leaps into the air. Her body travels much faster than an arrow. She stops right underneath a falling Bran. She manages to catch him with bare hands just in time.

Immediately, Amethyst goes for the back of his neck, rendering him unconscious. This should make a convincing improvisation at the moment.

Her speed allows her to not be seen. Just as quickly as she arrives, Amethyst flees the spot. She watches from below as the man looks down, finding an unconscious Bran.

"Did he die?" Amethyst's hearing is sensitive enough to hear a woman's voice coming from the tower.

"Seems so," the man replies.

"Alright. We have to get out of here." The both moves. Amethyst hears the sound of fabric brushing against skin. A few minutes later, they leave the tower.

Amethyst waits patiently for a few more seconds, just in case they decide to check on Bran. When she knows that they are not, she walks out of her hiding spot and carries Bran into the castle.

"Amethyst, what happened?" Jon Snow asks when he sees him.

"Bran. He fell," she mutters franticly, making sure that she acts like a panic, helpless lady. "We need to get him to bed."

"Let me carry him." He offers his arms and she allows him to take Bran.

Going into the building, they meet Lady Catelyn on the way. One look at them and her eyes water.

"What happened?" she wails, as if in pain herself.

"Bran fell," is his reply. They quickly carry him up to his room.

"Amethyst, please explain to me. How did he fell?"

"I don't know. But I saw him lying down next to the abounded tower near the corner of the castle. I brought him here as soon as I can." No one can know what she witnessed, or else the same people will go for her as they went for Bran.

"Call the doctor!"

"There is no need. I know medical enough to take care of him. Now, Lady Catelyn, would you please be so kind as to bring some medicine as I check for his wounds? And Jon, could you please bring some warm water and a clothe?" They nod and move out from the room, which is exactly as she needs.

Climb on the side of the bed, Amethyst removes her glove, showing her long, sharp nails. They are tended and red like they are freshly soaked with blood. She removes Bran's pants. He is wound free, but that will not stay for long.

Bring a nail to his left knee, she draws a scratch there. Bran moans in his sleep, but she keeps on going. Just two or three move, so that it will not look suspicious. She also applies some on his arms and back, to make it look natural.

Once done, removes her mask quickly. Uses her hands to forcefully pries his eyes open. She can feel a certain pull of power when she lock eyes with him and opens her mouth.

"Why did the man pushed you down?" she asks calmly.

Bran is not conscious, but her power forces him to answer the question. He cannot refuse, no matter what, as her power is absolute as long as she maintains eye contact.

"I saw something I shouldn't. The queen ordered him to kill me," he says, though lowly so that only she can hear.

"What did you see, Bran?" she asks again in the same manner.

"They were being…." he hesitates for a second, "intimate."

It all sounds clear now. The man, she remembers, is the queen's brother. They are lovers and siblings, one of the most dangerous combination of love there is.

"Bran, I want you to listen to me. Please forget the incident at the tower. You do not remember going to the tower. You do not remember climbing it. And you certainly do not see Queen Cersei, Lord Jaime or me, for that matter," she orders through compulsion. Once she is done speaking, Bran goes back to his sleep.

Quickly but quietly, she lets go of him and puts back her mask. Jon comes back just in time, Lady Catelyn following close behind.

"Good news. He is alright, except for a few scratches. The cause of his unconscious state is merely of shock from the fall itself, I suppose." The two of them sighs in relief.

Amethyst begins by soaking the piece of clothe with water, before bringing it to Bran's tight. She wipes of the blood gently. When she goes to the other wound, she notices a bulge that was not there forming underneath his undergarment.

It appears to be…. that her touch has send some signals into his body. She has no idea whether this happens because of what he has witnessed back at the tower or not, but she turns her attention back to his wounds. She pretends as if she does not see it, but the moment does not go unnoticed by the other two in the room.


	4. Smell

**_Smell_**

It is morning and Bran is back to archery practice with Robb. Catelyn has advices for her youngest son to rest, considering the event that occurred at the previous night. But his son is persistent. Robb promises his mother that he will keep watch of Bran, so that she will not worry too much.

"What would you like to eat for lunch today? Bunny, moose?" Amethyst asks Bran.

"Are you going into the woods again?" he asks, a frown on his face.

"Are you worrying about me? Awe, that is so sweet," she ruffles his head. "Don't worry, I'm bring my axe."

"You have an axe?" Sansa, who happens to be passing by, asks. Besides her, Joffrey glares at Amethyst.

"I do."

"Where do you keep it? How come no one ever seen it?"

"I know she has an axe," Arya yells from the bridge above, causing them to lift up their heads to see her leaning against the railing. "She keeps it in there room."

Folding her arms under her chest, Sansa questions cynically, "And how do you know about that?"

"I saw her one night. After a hunt." Which Amethyst acknowledge of has happened, but did not bother covering it up. Hunting is what normal humans do, after all. And in this area, it is not uncommon for women to participate in it as well.

"What is your answer?" Amethyst asks Bran again.

"Moose."

Weather in the outside is colder, but she remains unaffected as she strides into the forest while carrying an axe in one hand. She has left her boots in the house. Her dress is long enough to cover the oddities of her manner in dressing. The sharpness of its blade is undoubtful. She can very well she her own reflection, if she wishes to.

Going deep into the forest, Amethyst seeks for that solitude from mortal eyes. Though she has her own fun spending time with the children, raising them, she must admit that it is not a bad idea to release her blood thirsty needs for once in a while.

Following the scents, she catches the musky scent of meat, combined with fur and mud. There is a scent of decay in the air. Blood, too. Following her other senses, Amethyst can hear the sound of water raining by the fountain at West. It is dim and subdued, but she can hear the sounds of cubs wailing. Further North, a herd of four-legged creatures.

Got you.

She lets it slip by her concentration, but she does it on purpose. A murder aura, a killing intent of a monster. The herd senses it. And as how animals rely on their instinct, they flee.

At least, most of them. The leader of the herd is still there, trying to defend the territory to protect its family as they all scatter away for their lives.

Good for her. Bad for it.

In a split second, Amethyst flies pass kilometers of perimeter. She finds herself leaping towards the moose. It has lost one of its set of horns. She twists the axe in midair, circling it past her head before bringing it back forward.

The poor creature does not even realize it as she chops off its head. Blood splatters everywhere; to the ground and to her dress. Amethyst lands on her feet, bare and now wet with blood.

She does not mind as the warm make its way to her skin. It feel relaxing, even. To take a life as you know it best and enjoy the gift of life soaking through you.

On her way back, one hand is dragging the dead moose by one of its legs while the other holds the axe. Up a hill, Amethyst spots a body of a dead wolf. Approaching closely, it is the source from the smell of decay she has caught on earlier.

Its body is bloody. On its head a horn in nesting through it. She bets it must be off the moose.

Dropping the moose's leg, Amethyst climbs up to the hill where the dead wolf lies. She takes a closer look to notice that it is not just any wolf, but a direwolf. Its babies are crawling around their dead mother, wailing softly wishing for her never returning life.

Poor creatures.

Instead of the need of blood lust she feels, Amethyst actually feels sorry for them. Such young and innocent things. They will not survive without their mother. They will be starving to death, if wild animals from this forest does not get to them first.

Five white cubs. She can take care of them, she concludes.


	5. Taste

**_The better to taste you with_**

"Sit," Amethyst orders, and the five of them does as told, sitting in a line. "Bark." A chorus of wolf's barking can be heard from the kitchen. "Roll over." They lie on their side and begin to roll their bodies on the floor. "Excellent! Now eat." She hands each of them a bowl of minced meat, just like how they like it.

It has been a week ever since Amethyst has brought all five direwolfs into the Stark castle. She was confronted by Robb when she making her way back through the kitchen from the back entrance, when he spotted her with her axe, headless moose and what seems to be her expanded coat.

She has stuck all five on them under her thick coat. But even when they were all still but babies, she could not deny that the sad attempt was not improvised enough to hide what she was carrying underneath.

"What's wrong with your coat? What are you hiding?" he has asked as she drags the moose inside and settle in her axe on the kitchen table.

"Nothing," she chided cheerfully.

"That doesn't look like nothing," he said pointedly. "Come on. What is it? You can tell me."

"Well—" She was about to come up with a reason when one direwolf baby slipped pass her arms and landed on the floor in four. It wailed meekly, seemingly to have just awaken.

It cannot be help, as she herself did not put much effort in hiding them. Thankfully, nor the lord or the lady of the land was present, or else she would have to explain herself throughly. She knew of their authoritative stance when their home was considered.

"What the? Why are young carrying a cub in you?" Robb asked, staring at the cub on the floor, which seems to have taken a liking to his and scent his leg.

"Awe, look at that. How adorable," Amethyst commented in awe. Then she parted her coat so that he could see the other four sleeping peacefully in her arms. "I found them while I was hunting. Their mother was killed by this moose," her referred to her hunt at one corner of the kitchen. She would have to clean that later, though hopefully the maids would not mind assisting.

"So you just decided to brought them?" his voice was high enough for another one of the Stark children to walk in.

"What did you bring?" Arya asked, before her eyes landed on the cubs and they lid up. Robb only groans. She immediately asked to hold one of them, which she allowed. "He's so adorable," the girl commented childishly. This would also be one of those rarest times Arya would act like a girl. "What do you call her?"

"I don't know. I haven't name her yet."

Arya took a look at the cub in her arms, seeming to have grown an oddly strong attachment to it already. "Nymeria," she said, "I'll name her Nymeria."

"That sounds like a fitting name. Robb, would you like to name him, too?" Amethyst gestured at the cub still circling his leg.

"I don't think this is a very good idea," he admitted, "but I'll name it Grey Wind."

"Excellent."

Lord Eddart was proved to be quite difficult to convince, though Lady Catelyn was harder. She had assured them that she would take great care of the direwolfs. She would train them, feed them with her own hunt or money, and even took care of them if they got injured or sick.

It was just like when she took care of their children, she reminded. But of course, since the children were then has mostly grown up, they would not need as much attention as they used to. Plus, they could help her take care of them when they had the time. She could teach them on taking responsibility in taking care of another life while at hand.

The last argument shaken Ned off.

The next week after the training, Amethyst tried to experiment with the cubs' food. First, instead of minced, she gives them cut ones. She changes the size. Each day just slightly bigger cut that the last, until she can finally present them with a whole chunk of meat.

The cubs always eat spiritfully when they are hungry. They never show any hesitant, always making sure to lick each bowl clean. This progress satisfied her greatly. This means that she can finally take them to hunt.

They cannot actually hun yet at this age, but it will be good to show them how. This way, they can also learn to eat directly from freshly killed meat instead of just cut meat.

They need to taste blood.

It is a morning like any other. She wakes up the cubs and makes them following her into the forest. They are hesitant at first, feeling the coldness of the winter weather outside.

But Amethyst has her ways. Seeing how they have grown their attachment to her the most, they will follow her like they followed their mother. She is theirs, in a way.

She decides that something small will do. Therefore, she directs them to a hole of bunny family. With one agile arm, she stuffed it into the dirt hole. When she pulls out, a bunny can be seen caught by the ears.

Amethyst drops it in front of the cubs. They will scent and exam the bunny at first, not knowing what else to do with it. She kneels next to them, preventing the bunny from escaping back to its safe den whenever it tries.

Once they get a hold of its scent, she grabs it by the neck and snaps its neck. The lively bunny goes limp instantly.

She drops it back on the snow, yet the cubs are still not knowing what to do with it. Another idea comes light into her mind. She brings the bunny to her mouth as she removes her mask. Amethyst pulls back her lips, allowing her razor sharp teeth to show.

The skin and meat feels like butter when she pierces it. She can taste bitter blood in her tongue. It is just a sip, but it makes her wants to hurl even though she physically cannot.

Aside from that, the texture and warm of the liquid red is actually rather satisfying. It really has been a while since the last time she drinks blood. She recalls that additive taste in her mouth; seductive and dangerous.

Dropping the dead bunny back to the snow, its blood begin to spread. A small red pool soon begins to form around it.

The cubs watch how 'the mother' bites into the helpless animal. One of them, Ghost, who Jon has helped named, crawls forward. He inhales the blood and the meat, before taking a bite just like her. Shaggydog does the same as its older sibling, and the rest follows. Soon, it is only blood and bones left from the bunny.

"Are you hurt?"

Amethyst is too amazed by the cubs' reaction as to paying attention of her surrounding. She looks up to see Jon Snow walking towards her, a few meters away. He has his sword with him, meaning that he just went back from training. His confused expression soon morphs fear.

"My God, is that blood on your face?" He breaks into a sprint and soon enough he is kneeling next to her. "What happened? Did you hurt yourself?" His hand each into his pocket pants, pulling out a handkerchief. It is the one she gave him on his eight birthday, she notices.

"I'm fine, Jon. It's not my blood," she replies calmly.

He looks down to spot what is left of the bunny, along with the direwolfs. They too also have blood on their mouth and some on their fur.

"How do you know my name? And why are you with my family's wolves?"

"Don't you recognize me? It is I, Amethyst."

He gulps. "You are? Well, well…. I never expected you to take off you mask." He and his siblings have pester her into removing the silver object once, though she refused every time. Eventually, the grew old of it and one day stopped asking. "You look much younger than I expected, too. I thought you'd be around the lord's or lady's age, since you've been around ever since as far as I can member."

"I got that a lot."

She notices how his hand to be slowing down when he touches the covers of her lips through the material. She also notices how his eyes locked dangerously close with her lips. Amethyst asks for the handkerchief to wipe the stain off herself, but Jon insists.

"You still haven't answered my question. Why is there blood on you?" he repeats.

"I was teaching the cubs how to hunt," she explains. "They are in the appropriate age to start learning. Soon, they will be able to get their own meal without us." She knows that the Stark children occasionally smuggle some food to the cubs when they think she is not looking.

"That's impressive but gross at the same time." His comment makes her laugh, which tickles his hearing and sends shivers down his spine. Suddenly, the area around his pants tightens, making him feels uncomfortable. He needs to releases it, but he cannot.

My God, she is his tutor, for God's shake! She is like the mother he never has. He cannot think like this towards her just because he sees her face. He needs to stop this insolent urges!

He coughs to clear his mind. "I think we should get back. A storm's coming."

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 **A/N:** Special thanks to HermioneandMarcus for the review.


	6. Claws

_Claws_

"Governess Amethyst, Governess Amethyst! Look what I found in my room this morning!" Arya hops into the study chamber, a brand new set of bow and arrow at hand.

"Careful with those, Arya," Amethysts lectures her, slowing the girl down right away. "You know how I feel about you children running while carrying sharp objects."

Placing the bow and arrows on the table, she runs towards her with a crushing hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she squeals.

Amethyst pats her on the head. "You're welcome."

She looks up to me suddenly, expression unreadable. "I wish you don't wear that mask," she says.

The woman knows this time will come eventually. "Why?"

"Because I can't tell if you're genuinely happy or not."

"You don't need to see ones face to know if they are genuine or not. One can always tell a lie while smiling. In fact, don't you think it's easier to tell with my mask on? You can focus on your other senses." She gesture for Arya to take a sit on one of the chairs. "For example, your hearing. You can hear my voice. Does it not signify glee?"

"Yes, it does. I just wish that you'd remove the mask."

"Arya," she flinches a little bit when Amethyst calls out her name, afraid that the governess might be mad. "Do you really want me to?"

She nods, thought hesitantly now.

Amethyst smiles even though she cannot see it. Slowly, she reaches for her silver mask and undoes it.

The girl drinks in every inch of her. From her white eyelashes down to the razor sharp fangs peaking from her blood-red lips.

"You're not ugly!" is the first thing she says, causing Amethyst to laugh. "I thought you have a big ugly scar or something on your face," she admits.

"I can assure you, Arya. I have nothing of such sort."

"Then why did you hide your face?"

Her gaze flickers toward the open door that leads to the empty corridor, before going back to the girl.

"Have you ever seen anyone more beautiful than me?" she asks. Arya takes her time thinking, recalling all of the so many faces she has ever seen. She shakes her head. "And what kind of people will I attract, if I walk around without my mask?"

"Probably thousands of suitors! Royals and nobles from all over the kingdom will come for you! Hell, even my brothers might propose to you," she says nonstop.

"Exactly."

"What's wrong?" she asks, noticing my bothered look. "You don't like it?"

"I like my life in this land. It's peaceful and quite, and I have you children to look after for. I can't have what I have now if I don't keep wearing the mask."

Without any sign, an old hag appears from the corridor, holding a muddy staff. Her hair is white—but unlike Amethyst's smooth and silky hair, her hair is entangled and pallid. Her skin covered in wrinkles and dirt. Her nails long and unkept. Her teeth missing a few and craggy. When she speaks, her voice is dry; almost dead.

"Trickery. Such act will come easy, especially for those who governs the blood; the vampires."

"How dare you speak such lies. Get out of my home!" Arya reacts first. Her words seem to have upset the old hag, because they see her suddenly hurls herself at them.

Amethyst reacts fast. She grabs hold of Arya and pulls her away from the hag. This motion does not go unnoticed by her. The old hag glares at the woman hard, before turning to the little girl again.

"Don't cry when bodies start to pile. Vampires do not belong with the living," she says warningly, before turning away and stumbling off, her staff thumping as she walks.

The governess lets go of her student when they are alone once more, wrists clenched on her back. What Arya does not see behind the woman's back is her claws digging into her skin, shaking with impending wrath.

Red, long and sharp are her nails. They produce droplets of liquid, drawn from the small tearing on the pale skin.

 _Hare dare a mere mortal attempt an attack on her pupil!_


	7. Fangs

**_Better to bite you with_**

It all happens so fast. There is no room for breathing. It feels just like a thousand daggers are piercing his heart. He will die. His blood will be by her hand. Red by her hands. Paint the world in red. Tear his flesh with her fangs.

Amethyst dreams of killing one of the Stark's sons. She does not see any particular face, but she knows a killing intent when she feels it.

Waking up in her bedroom, she opens the window and allows snow fall in. Her thin white nightgown blends well with the snow when she climbs over and lands outside barefoot.

No mask, no gloves. She steps under the full moon, her silhouette looks pale in comparison. She can hear her direwolfs howling from afar, catching on her scent.

She heads towards the forest at that dead of night, each step shows no hesitation. From behind she can hear two pair of legs following. The movement is too well organized to be two people, and they are too light and agile. Must be one of the wolves, then. But which one is it?

It is too heavy to be Grey Wind's. Too precise to be Nymeria's. Ghost, perhaps? The woman looks back to the trail of snow she leaves behind down the hill of white. Roughly five miles around the trees, the male white creature sticks its tongue out, trying to follow her scent.

Amethyst continues on walking. After another mile, she hears a different footsteps. It comes from the direction of the Stark castle. Cold wind blows. It affects her not much, but she catches a new familiar scent. She ignores it and keeps going.

She needs to get away. Reliefs some tension. Away from the temptations.

These mortals are never safe around her. She thought she would have the urges under control. But dangerous things are not meant to be in control. They ought to run free eventually.

They are not safe as long as she is close to them. It seems like it is close to a time to say goodbye again. She will certainly miss them, but they will forget her eventually. The children will grow old and have children of their own, and then they will be earthed. And just like that the governess Amethyst is gone.

Not her, thought. She will not forget them. A vampire always remembers.

When will she need to leave? A month, a week, a day? Tonight? It will surely be hard to say goodbye. Perhaps she must take this golden opportunity.

Catelyn might not feel any much difference. The woman never particularly like her, though she never openly shows hatred towards her either.

Ned saw her once during the War of the Usurper. A large scale battle was occurring when she walked out from piles of dead bodies, herself covered in anyone else's blood from head to toe. They met again when she applied for the governess position for the House of Stark.

He did not seem to notice her, even without the mask. His wife shows jealousy of her beauty, though, which encourages her to start wearing a mask. There was no need for controversy.

The children—Robb is now all grown up. He will take over his father someday.

John, though someones look down on himself, has a lot of potential. Time and experience will uncover it all.

Theon was rather hard to approach at first, but she grew on him eventually.

Sansa is polite and spiritful. She is talented in dressmaking and Amethyst always support her for turning it into a business. Perhaps someday she will consider, instead of simply becoming a housewife.

Arya is more open-minded than her older sister. She always wanted to try new things, especially in the field of archery and sword practice. Her father will eventually given in and allow her to learn the art of duels. She is his favorite daughter, after all, though he never admits it.

Bran will be safe as long as he never remembers what he has witnessed. He is the son of a very important figure in this country. The queen and knight will not be able to murder him recklessly.

Rickon is young, but very diligent and smart. With the right tutor, he will becomes a highly respected scholar. She just hopes that his parents will choose wisely.

"Wait!" Amethyst can hear someone shouts from afar. She turns her head to see John Snow sprinting towards her. His breathing is hitching and fog appears whenever he exhales. It must be very cold, then. Too bad weathers does not affect her greatly.

"Where are you going?" he asks once he catches up to her, Ghost leaping close behind. He wears a thick coat underneath his pajamas, and yet he still shows sign of chills. "Dressed like that, too." He moves to offer his coat, but she declines.

"No, thanks. You look like you need it more than I do," she simply says.

He considers her words, and silently gives up on trying to warm her up. "You haven't answer my question."

"Hunting."

"At this hour?" he says in disbelieve.

"They animals are often asleep. Easier it catch," she explains half-heartedly.

"You don't even have your axe with you. How are you going to catch them when they wake up?"

"They won't if you stop following me. I think you should go back to bed."

"Stop treating me like a five-year-old. I'm a grown man now. You don't need to show overall concern like that anymore."

"I know." She just thinks it would be alright to do it while she can.

He wraps her wrist with his hand—which she notices has grown bigger than hers throughout the years. "Let's just go back. We can hunt tomorrow. Besides, you should dress better before going out. What if someone else found you like this?"

She sees the blush on his cheeks when he catches a glance at her state, before quickly looking away. How adorable.

"I have to be honest with you. I don't particularly that bothered with dresses. But if it bothers you so much—" Amethyst is cut off when a something leaps at them. She instinctively pushes John away and lets herself collide with the attacker.

It turns out to be a mountain lion. She can feel its claws trying to tear her skin. It does not matter, though. The creature is no match for her. However, her audiences is much to be concern of.

"Amethyst!" John grabs the nearest large rock he can find and throws it at the mountain lion. The creature grows at him, annoyed, but refuses to let Amethyst go. Ghost growls back, and soon the two four-legged carnivores are lock in a circle.

The man finds another rock to throw, this time so that they can buy enough time to escape. Damn! Of all the times, it has to be when he does not carry his sword.

"Run!" John orders her, but Amethyst does not have the heart—even though she physically does not have one—to leave Ghost behind. He is nothing but a couple of months old, and the mountain lion is much older. He will not be able to put up much of a fight.

"No, you go. I'll handle this—" Too late. The mountain lion pouches and Ghost receives the end of its claws. He wails in pain, but that is all Amethyst needs to see.

In a blur, John sees Amethyst disappears from her spot. She appears back between the two animals, the mountain lion raised up high in the air.

It takes him a few seconds to notice that the predator is now dead. Its body limp with the strength of Amethyst's hand around its throat— No, she is not even choking it. Where the moon light does not reach, he can see her small hand sinks into its flesh. Blood soaks her arm, but she remains still.

 _How is this possible?_ he thinks.

"Nikad ne šteti ono što je moje."

John hears her mutter something in a different language, before dropping the dead mountain lion harshly.

She turns and a thought crosses his mind on how the moon light does not justified her beauty enough. Her pale skin looks even paler by the dim yet harsh lighting. Her ruby red eyes appear like they can suck his soul for eternal damnation, yet he does not feel like he will give a care to the world.

Her lips look like they are freshly soaked in blood. He watches as she parts her mouths, displaying unrealistic sharp teeth. It glows white and sharp. She brings her bloody hand to her mouth. A pale tongue sticks out, licking off the blood from her fingers.

He cannot describe the feeling he is experiencing right now. A smaller part of him wants to scream and run away as far as possible just to get away from her. But a bigger part of him wants to kiss her until he cannot breathe anymore.

"I'm sorry. It seems like I'm too carried away," she says, her tone silky smooth and calm as always, as if she has not just kill a mountain lion single-handedly.

* * *

 **A/N: I didn't expect this story to gain this many fans when I first started it. Thank you so much for those of you who have commented and added this story.**


	8. Finale

_**The better to remember you with**_

The rock in his hand falls without a sound. It sinks into the snow and disappears from sight.

She watches intensely as Jon Snow grows silence. Seconds pass to minutes, before he finally speaks.

"I can't b-believe this is happening. H-h-how it is possible?" he shivers, fear glistening in his dark eyes. Strangely, this reminds him of a rite he used to hear.

 _But Amethyst, what soft voice you have!_

 _The better to lure you with, my dear._

 _But Amethyst, what red eyes you have!_

 _The better to see you with, my dear._

 _But Amethyst, what pale skin you have!_

 _The better to feel you with, my dear._

 _But Amethyst, what pointy nails, you have!_

 _The better to rip you apart with, my dear._

 _But Amethyst, what sharp teeth, you have!_

 _The better to bite you with, my dear._

Those stories. Jon remembers now. They were taught by Amethyst herself. When he was a child, he and his siblings were playing hide and seek. Then, to make it even more exciting, they will recite these words before she begins to chase them.

Those recites are not just for fun. She was warning them, in a way. That she is the wolf; a predator. This kind of thinking will never crosses his mind if he is not seeing what he is seeing now.

"I'm sorry," he hears her begin to speak. He can feel the pain in her tone and he wonders if it is real or not. If what they have gone through so far is also real or fake. If her love for them is pretend or not. "I wanted to go away quietly. Perhaps I shouldn't have come into your live in the first place. Maybe I should have just gone to the Lannisters.… Netherless, I can't stay anymore. You shall forget about this night."

What is she talking about?

"Who are you? _What_ exactly are you?" he dares to ask.

"Jon, I'm still the Amethyst you know," she says softly that it hurts to even hear her voice. It is the voice of a liar.

"What are you?" he asks again.

She smiles a sad smile when she answers, "A vampire."

 _"_ Trickery. Such act will come easy, especially for those who governs the blood; the vampires. _"_

He remembers his younger sister, Arya, tells of of what she witnessed the other day. So the old hag was telling the truth, after all.

"I'm sorry," Amethyst says again. She takes a step closer and he takes a step back. She takes another step, and Jon breaks out a run.

He cannot believe that this is happening. The cold air pierce his body when he runs, but he cannot stop. He passes dozens of trees, yet he is still far from home. He needs to get away fast—

Amethyst suddenly appears in front of him and he abruptly stops. His breathing rages and his muscles aches. He sweats cold sweat when he makes eye contact with her. Suddenly, his will is gone and he finds his mind going weak. Somewhere from the distance, he hears her melodious voice speaking.

"This night never happen. You spend the night sleeping, dreaming. Now go back to your bed and sleep. When you wake up, you'll forget about this dream."

True enough, the Starks wake up the next morning to find their governess gone without a trace. There was no letter, no goodbye. The things are still there. Her books, her direwolves, her axe. The girls cried for days, and the boys has never looked more upset.

Thus the immortal leaves the humans, just like how the dead leaves their family. Perhaps that is why the immortals are know to not be alive. Those who are left behind will sed a few tears, give promises of love and remembrance, thought they will move on and eventually forget.

For the end…. is just a new beginning.

* * *

 **The complete recite of the Vampire in Wolf's Clothing:**

 _But Amethyst, what red eyes you have!_

 _The better to see you with, my dear._

 _But Amethyst, what sharp ears you have!_

 _The better to hear you with, my dear._

 _But Amethyst, what pale skin you have!_

 _The better to feel you with, my dear._

 _But Amethyst, what fine nose you have!_

 _The better to smell you with, my dear._

 _But Amethyst, what pale tongue you have!_

 _The better to taste you with, my dear._

 _But Amethyst, what soft voice you have!_

 _The better to lure you with, my dear._

 _But Amethyst, what pointy nails, you have!_

 _The better to rip you apart with, my dear._

 _But Amethyst, what sharp teeth, you have!_

 _The better to bite you with!_

* * *

 **A/U: Sequel?**


	9. The Guru

**\- The Guru -**

* * *

 _'Guru', in Indonesian, means 'teacher'._

* * *

 _Across the lands, a child needs a guiding hand from the path of destruction._

* * *

 **The Guru**

The White Devil lurked from within the shadows. Watching; observing in the silence. She saw them died, laughed, murdered, lived. She witnessed them evolved. From glory to doom; from doom and back to glory. It was an endless circle of evil.

Life was evil. That was a conclusion she had discovered a long time ago. It is hell, and mortals were created to live in it. Despite knowing that, they still could not escape from it. And thus they cried in happiness, laughed in madness, and screamed with joy.

The White Devil did not know much about it, but life sure was full of twists and turns. She did not hate it, because watching these humans helped her passed time, but she surely did not particularly like it either. It was way too unstable for her taste.

The White Devil had always avoided contact with those mortals. However, in one particular night, she found herself within the parameters of a mortal residential.

"Who is there?" a girl asked. She was no younger than a mere child in human years, yet not old enough to be a young mother. Yet there she was, wondering from outside her room, just a night away before her wedding night. There were traces of emotions in those pale eyes of hers. And thought the White Devil knew just how fragile the human was, she also knew just how deep viciousness has scared this girl.

And she was about to get even tormented after her marriage. How could she not, when the man she was arranged to be married with was in love with another female.

"I know you're out there. I can feel your staring," the girl says again. "If you still value your life, you better show yourself, before I summon the guards."

Upon hearing the threat, the White Devil merely chuckled. What can a bunch of mortal guards do to her? She bet that they would all run for their lives at the first sign of brutality from her.

Now usually, the White Devil would just ignore mortals and mind her own business, but upon catch a scent through the gushing night's wind, she changed her mind.

"My, my, if it isn't the future queen of the seven kingdoms, freshly penetrated and breeding a product of incest."

At the sound of that sultry voice, Cersei's cheeks flushed with red, from both anger and humiliation. Unconsciously, she also felt jealous of how smooth the voice was.

"How dare you! Do you have any idea to whom you are speaking to? How dare to speak such lie─"

"Oh, don't misunderstand me, young girl. To be in love and united are very admirable thing, especially considering who you are being with."

The owner of the voice was still hidden well in the shadows of the trees surrounding her, but Cersei could feel a sharp glance coming from that voice's owner.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?"

A shadow finally moved, from even from the distance, Cersei could still see that glimmer of white radiant coming from the distance. Behind a crooked tree, a figure stood under white silky cloak. A strand of white hair cascade from underneath that cloak. A hand is resting from the branch, showing a glimpse of deadly pale skin and red painted nails ─ at least, they look painted. Unless they are recently dipped from fresh blood….

A face was peaking, and it was neither wrinkled or mounded at all. No, it was a face of an angel, descended to earth with its own appearing before her. Cersei had been to a lot of parties and gatherings, and this person was nothing compared to anyone from her memories. Not even she herself was close compared to this angel's beauty, and she could only see half of her face…. If only the color of her eyes were not as red as her lips.

Again, she felt that utter jealousy adding up more than it already was.

"My name is Amethyst zi Britannia. They called me the White Devil for my reputation. And I am here to offer you a deal."

At the sound of the word 'deal', Cersei's eyes flung up. "A deal? What kind of deal? Can it be anything I want?"

"There are certain things that I could not interfere, but yes. Anything you wish." Her words are so promising that Cersei has a feeling that it would be such a waste not to take advantage of this situation.

"And what would be the price of my wish?"

"I do not usually overcharge my clients, so you can say that I would usually revert to my usually option. It is something I am quite positive you can pay with even when you run out of everything else."

 _What it is?_ Cersei leaned in curiously.

"Blood." The word echoed with water.

Instinctively, Cersie took a step back, but that voice began calling her again. She could felt it, a cord of some sort attached to her with the white haired woman. The White Devil had power over her. Even just through her sultry voice.

"Not of yours, mine you. But of his," she pointed at Cersei's direction. In more particular, the area of her stomach.

"You don't mean that…."

"Yes. You are pregnant. But you don't have to worry now. His blood is not mine for the taking yet. I will see you once you are ready. And when you do make up my mind, just call."

And then the girl was left alone again.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I'm not so sure if this type of story is to anyone's liking or not, so I will leave the possibility of continuation to you readers. If you think I should continue, then I will.**


	10. Prelude

King Trainer: The Vampire Behind the King

Stage 2: House of Lannister

 _Prologue: Transition_

"Will you be alright?" Elric asks his eldest sister. They stand at the gate of this portal, on top of the hill near the Stark castle. In this delicate time, it would be best to leave everything be.

Just like his sister, his hair is snow white and his eyes are red. His skin is as pale as hers, not affected by the weather by the slightest.

He is handsome in the eyes of the mortals. His face is much more delicate for a male, and it is not rare for them to mistake him for a girl. But he has well-build muscles enough to compliment his physique.

Dress in white uniform, he looks like a prince from another world. Though it is the truth. His robes has a lot of complicated symmetric design, formed by sewed on silver lines. It was tailor to compliment his body lines.

She was there and then she was gone. How fast time pass by. Though she is happy to reunite with her dearest younger brother.

"Yes, I will. But enough talk about me. How have you been?"

"We just parted 3 minutes ago," is all he says.

True enough. Elric's gift allows him to pass through time and space with a snap of a finger. To her, it has been decades since the last she saw him. But to him, it was only minutes ago that he dropped her off to this world.

This delicate yet harsh world of war and tyranny.

"We shall leave this place, and all that has occurred will be just like as if it has never happened before. There will be no Amethyst of Stark governess. The wheel of fate will restart to spin as how it should be. And then you will start another," he says.

"Elric, do you ever thing that my attempts are fruitless?"

"Never. It should not be hard to always dream," he says.

Immortals are not supposed to interrupt in the live of mortals. At least, not until _the promise_. The mortals forget then they stop believing. They no longer pray to the Gods, no longer wish for anything.

Thus Amethyst begins this journey. She always wonders what it would be if they still _believe_. To be able to help. Surely their lives would have been much prosper compared to this death and suffering. If only….

The two immortals face the gate and begin walking. It glows then disappears like the sand of time, leaving no trace behind.


	11. Circle of Life

Lesson 1

 _Take your place in the Circle of Life_

"What's a circle of life?" five years old Joffrey asks his governess, Amethyst. She robes are move likely in color now, and in a much higher quality. Her mask is gold this time around, and it only covers the upper half of her face.

"Do you see that tree over there?" she nudges at the direction of the garden outside their study room. Little Joffrey nods. "From the point when it started to grow from its roots to the point when it dried up. That is the life it has. But it is not the only thing that lives in this world. There are other plants and animals. They all live in the same nature that take place. And it that tree's life, it will encounter a lot of other living things.

"When it dies, a new tree will replace it. That new tree will grow and experiencing things like the previous tree. Someday, it will die, too, but a new generation of trees will soon replace it. That is the circle of life. It is a never ending circle. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, I do," he says with a frown.

"What is bothering you, young prince?"

"It's nothing. It's just that…. about what you said earlier. If that tree will die someday, will that mean that I will die, too?"

"Everyone dies, Prince Joffrey."

"Will it be painful?"

"Not as painful as life. As you grow you'll experience more love and pain. It's all part of the circle of life."

"But, but, what if I don't want to become part of it?" he glances up at her oh-so innocently.

"You're already part of the circle of life the moment you were born. There is nothing you can do to change it. Chin up, your prince. Someday, you will take your place as the king. This role comes with its own privileges. For starter, you can make the kingdom a better place. There are so much things you can do to help your people."

"Governess Amethyst, I don't think I can do this," he says in a sigh, no sign of confidence. "I'm not even sure where to begin."

An idea crosses her mind. "I know where you can start." She circles around the study desk and walks towards one of the cabinets in the room. She opens the door to reveal two dull coats inside; one her size, the other much smaller. She pulls the bigger coat around her, before seizing the other one and handing it over to the boy prince. "I have someplace to show you. Would you come with me?"

Joffrey frowns at the muddy old coat, forming an expression she considers very adorable. "Do I have to wear this?"

Amethyst smirks. "The place we are going aren't for royals like you. You'll need a disguise if you don't want people groveling on your feet every step of the way. Besides, you wouldn't want to ruin your clothes. Or you can change into something you don't want anymore, if you wish."


	12. Delicate Balance

Lesson 2

 _Everything you see exist in a delicate balance. As a king, you need to understand that balance, and respect all creatures._

The place they are going is the city itself. Not just any common area, though, but the slums area nonetheless. Joffrey has to cover his nose upon entering the territory, while Amethyst holds his hand at the other hand. He has to fight the urge to throw up.

"Why are we here?" he asks, not sounding happy anymore.

"Look around, young prince," she mutters to him, so that passerby cannot hear the referral. "This is one of the places you will inherit."

The ground is covered in dirt and mud. Unpleasant smell seems to be coming form everywhere. The people all wear duller clothes than them, faces covered in dirt. Most, he discovers, are so skinny that he can see their bones sticking out. Overall, disgusting.

"It's not much of a place," he sneers.

"But you can change it," she says.

"How? There not much we can do to this place."

"On the contrary, this place possesses a lot of potential. Look around you, young prince. There are many children around your age at this place." They are mostly orphans, who are kept poorly because of the limited supply of food and clothes. "I see man power." Of course, by the time Joffrey will be off age, those orphans will be ready for work.

"But look at this place, Governess. How will they survive until then?"

She chuckles. "Just because you're still young and a prince, that doesn't mean you have no power. Ask for your father for this territory. I bet he won't even mind. You can manage this place. It will be a good practice for your future."

"What do I have to do with them, once I have this territory?"

"You were given allowances each month. You might not be aware of this, but the accountants take note on it. You can ask for a part of it and invest it for this area."

Sure, he can give them food and clothes. But for how long?

"Not only that, but there is an important factor you have to consider. Nowadays, merchants and accountants earn more than they used to. Imagine what good it will do to the kingdom's economy, if these orphans will someday work and earn as much as them?"

"But what good can they do? They are just orphans."

"True. Through if you look closer, you'll notice that these children all started out like you, a blank slate. Slowly, as the years go by, life and experience shape you into the person you are. Imagine what they can do if they access the same education as you do. It will be like having dozens of you. They'll contribute much to the kingdom."

"Governess, are you asking me to get tutors for them?"

"Why ever not? It doesn't contradict with the kingdom's rules, now, does it?"

"No, but who will want to teach them?" The tutors she is referring to carry themselves high to teaching children of the nobles and royals. Will he have enough for them, even if their pride is shaken?

"People love titles. You can have them as your private royal instructors," she suggests. "This way, not only will they have accept teaching these children, but they will also have to obey you. Will that be wonderful?"

Her words start to inspire him more and more. Joffrey finds himself nodding in agreement.

That day, they spend the rest of the afternoon circling around the slums, exchanging ideas of how to improve the area.


	13. Laugh at Danger

Lesson 3

 _Laugh in the face of danger._

"Do I really have to do this?"

Joffrey is now eight and they are standing in the garden, wooden sword in hand. His governess has suggested that they begin practicing during this time of year, when spring is still here.

"Yes, young prince." Amethyst stands at the opposite end, holding a wooden sword of his own. "Do you understand why the king in the chest piece can only move one step at a time?" He shakes his head. "That's because people does not expect kings to fight his own battles."

"I father did," he says.

"Yes, and that is why you'll want an advantage like this one, too. You don't want to be the helpless chest piece now, would you?"

"No," he says, now showing a look of determination in his eyes.

"Good. Now try to attack me, so that I can determine your strength."

Joffrey leaps without warning. He aims the sword at her gut. Despite being fully dressed with heavy gown, she simply twirls around, dodging the pointy wood. Joffrey blinks in surprise, but resumes on the task at hand.

He swings it around, following her movement, yet she moves again so that he misses. After a few more attempt of trying, Amethyst signals for him to stop.

The young prince ends up heaving, losing his breathe. He leans the sword on the ground and leans against it.

"The first thing we need to build up is young stamina. This will not only be an advantage to you in a fight, but also in daily tasks. You can stay up all day handling papers, and you can lead an army to march just as long."

Amethyst tells him to forget about the sword for the mean time. He must run circling around the castle every morning before they start they lesson. There will be an hour rest, before theoretical study begins. This schedule will continue on until next month, where she promises to take him to a real battle.

"You'll need to understand what you're getting yourself into, if you want to become king. Bloodshed is unavoidable."

She notices how his eyes always lid up by the mention of a potential killing. Indeed, she herself were rather fascinated by murder when she was his age, though not as much as her curiosity of the world. There are walls surrounding her continent. Outside is all kinds of beings, living in separate continents with carried hatred of each other. What a world, what a world.

"Is my mother alright with that?" Joffrey asks.

"Your mother trusted me to maintain your education properly. As this is part of an important key to the success in your learning process, she will have to agree to it," Amethysts says.

"And father?" he asks.

"That will be a little bit complicated," she quickly blurs out. Joffrey looks at her, peaked by her reaction. "I won't lie to you, but he is not aware of this activity we're planning. I'm concern that if I explain the situation to him, he'll be very upset and even forbid us to continue on progress."

That will be awful. He knows that once his father makes up his mind, it will be difficult for anyone to change it. So he must to know.

"I apologize for making you keeping secrets from your father," she starts to say, "but—"

"It doesn't matter, Governess. Father wouldn't care much, anyway," he cuts her off, turning to his bag pack. He will have to carry this on his own, and he must choose wisely which items he should bring with his person.

She notices the bitterness that ends in this tone, so she asks, "Why do you say that?"

"You must know by now," he mutters without turning to look at her as he folds down a blanket carefully. The task is much harder than how the maids make it look. "On the rumors of him sleeping around."

"Oh, Joffrey." He feels her pulling him into an embrace. Her touch makes him forget about the task at hand. Her skin feels smoother than he expects. He gives in into the embrace.

Amethyst kneels to his level and looks at him in the eyes. "I know that it must be hard for you, knowing the wrong things that your parents do," she pats his head gently. "While they let their downside expressed itself and be the better of themselves, you must not let yours consume. Let this be a lesson to you."

He stares back to her golden mask and nods slowly. He lets the words sink in and replies in.

"What did you mean?" he asks, pulling away. "You said parents, not parent." Oops. She must have slipped that out unpurposely.

"I think you should ask your mother about that," she says.

"Why? What it is? Tell me," he uses that demanding tone he often uses if he is not getting what he wants.

"I'm sorry, but this is not my secret to tell. And please, when you do learn it, be open minded. Love it is not meant to be limited or in control."

Joffrey does not understand why she is telling him all of this until the following years.


	14. Change

Lesson 4

 _Change is not easy, but it is good._

He is thirteen, smart and agile. The investment he put in the slums is starting to pay off.

Those who used to be orphans are now starting to do their own side jobs. Some takes interest in trading, while others wish to be knights like their late fathers.

Joffrey takes the opportunity to train them for his knights, through a well-known ex-guard that used to work for the kingdom. _Loyalty starts from the seed_ , his governess once said. If he form them well, he can guarantee theirs.

"My son," King Robert calls out on his way to the throne room. Joffrey is standing outside, eyes looking at the distance of his small territory his 'father' gave to him ages ago. Felt just like yesterday Governess Amethyst took him there. He regretted none of the moment that day. "How are you?"

"Excellent, Father," he replies politely with a smirk. Faking a smile seems to come to him naturally, after years of being trained by her. _A good politician knows when to smile_ , she said.

The king pats his son's back, almost tumbling Joffrey by the strength. Again, he is thankful of all that stamina-building training she put him through. "I heard about your progress on the slums. Never been prouder."

"Change is not easy, but it is good," is his reply.

"Wise words for a son of mine. I guess I shall see you on the council meeting." His words lid the prince's eyes up.

"I'm attending the council meeting?" he asks, surprised.

"You are off age now. It's time to learn the inner working of this kingdom," the king simply says.

"I understand. It's just…. unexpected, the news," he replies.

After a few minutes of chatting up, Joffrey excuses himself.

"Pardon me, but I must speak with my governess," he gives a slight bow before leaving.

"Hold on," Joffrey turns back when he hears his father's voice raise. "About the governess," the king trails off.

"Yes?"

"Have you- have you ever seen he without a mask?"

Joffrey blinks upon hearing the question. Of course, he has wonder what she looks like under that mask of hers. But he knows that she has her own reasons, which is why he never asks about it.

"No, Father. Why, may I ask?"

"Nothing. Just curious, that is. Have you seen her nude?"

"Father!" Joffrey cannot believe that his father is talking about this. "Governess Amethyst is a very proper lady, if you must know. She has never appear in any way inappropriate and she always dress humbly. I would appreciate it if you do not talk about her this way, please."

"Sorry, that wasn't my intention. It is just that, I have been thinking. You're a man now. If you have interest in her, that's fine as well. I just want you to know that I don't mind it."

He does not need his approval, but it is nice to know.


	15. Love, Pain & Cure

Lesson 5

 _Love is the cure and the pain._

"Governess, what do you think about love?"

They are close to ending their lesson that evening, when the sixteen years old Joffrey asks the question. Funny how he brings this up. Could it be that spring arrives early for the young prince?

"Love? Love is…. Let's see," Amethyst trails off. To simply put words to much a limitless possibilities is just to difficult. "Love is the cure and the pain." He keeps staring at her, waiting for an explanation. "It doesn't matter whether it is family or a lover you love, it's all the same. Love can fill up your life when it's empty, but it can also make living hurts without your loved ones."

"I see."

"Do you?"

Joffrey stands from his chair and approaches her. He closes the distance between them until he is just a few inches apart.

"I'd like to try something, if you don't mind," he says.

Amethyst tilts her head, wondering what it is. He looks intensely into her eyes, before his eyes drop to her lips. Suddenly it becomes very clear of what he wants to do.

She tries to move away to the side, but he just blocks her by leaning a hand against the board behind her. She tries another way, but he grabs her by the chin and leans in.

She only want to move quickly without appearing that much like a blur. The young prince is very agile for a human. He learns her movement and traps her fast. Curse the incredible training she put him through. Now he is way smarter than most humans. And cunning, too.

He feels warm when he presses his lips against hers. She can sense the pulse beating underneath that skin—that flesh. _Thud, thud, thud,_ it goes. And she has not had a mortal this close to her in years, too. The temptation to drink blood is starting to woe her.

Joffrey does not expect her lips to be this cold. She must be freezing. Fall is close at hand, after all. He thoughtfully wraps his arms around her so give her warmth.

"I must be in love with you," he whispers in between the kiss before planting another one, "No, I am definitely in love with you."

"You mustn't—" She tries to reason with him, but he only kiss her deeper to silence her. _Thud, thud, thud,_ the beating pulse goes.

"I'm the future king. I can do anything," he tells her.

"Your parents—"

"My father already gave this approval," he says quickly.

"He did?" she sounds surprise—or it is uncertainty? He does not know but keep on kissing her. She tastes so good, like rose soaked with milk. It seems he catches scent of her bathing incessant.

Before he realizes it, Amethyst pushes him so hard that he ends up landing with his back on the study table behind him.

One of his hand just happens to be holding on to her mask. It falls off of her face.

He cannot see her clearly because the sunlight comes from behind her, but he can make up her features enough. Her smooth pale skin, her ruby red eyes, her white feathery eyelashes, her small and elegant nose.

 _Thud, thud, thud!_ the heart goes.

"You don't need this kind of pain," she says before pulling away.


	16. Blizzarding Flames

**Blizzarding Flames**

 _Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. Throw Amethyst in the world of Game of Thrones and watch how the God plays her game._

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Game of Thrones, only my original characters.

* * *

 _Some say the world will end in fire,_

 _Some say in ice._

 _From what I've tasted of desire_

 _I hold with those who favor fire._

 _But if it had to perish twice,_

 _I think I know enough of hate_

 _To say that for destruction ice_

 _Is also great_

 _And would suffice._

—Fire and Ice, by Robert Frost.

At the Lands of Always Winter, Beyond the Walls, Westeros, lies an underground hive full of bodies. They are not dead, yet they are not alive. Their eyes are closed, their smiles peaceful. From outside, they can be mistaken for sleeping. But who would be as that, when they are frozen in ice?

A White Walker enters, his blue eyes shine bright and deep. The flight of stairs made of harden snow leads to a box shaped ice. He walks up to it and approaches the coffin-like object. Inside, he can see a face of a female sleeping peacefully.

" _The time has come_ ," he speaks in the tongue of Skroth, his tone heavy and dry. Placing a palm on the ice, he patiently waits. _Crack_. He can hear the ice cracking underneath his palm. He removes his hand as he watches the crack spreads wider, crackling all the way towards the edges of the coffin. He steps back and—

The top of ice coffin collapse. He can see the figure inside better now. Her skin is pale white like snow, her lips full and red as fresh blood permanently smears them and her long, sharp nails too. Her hair is silky white, a mass delicate curl spreading around her like wings. Her white nightgown clings around her elegantly.

The White Walker waits. He counts until five before her eyelids blink open, revealing eyes of burning red—red for the hunger of blood—underneath those thick eyelashes. Her eyes instantly flick towards him, and she raises.

First into a siting position. Then she swings her legs out of the damaged coffin, her bare feet touching the cold floor without as much as a flinch.

" _Hello, Arkazaelch_ ," she says in Skroth, her voice much smoother despite the cold and dehydration caused by the long slumber. " _How many turn of centuries has it been since we last spoke?_ "

" _I counted ten. It has been almost 1,543 years_ ," he replies briskly, holding out is clawed hand that is thicker with layers of ice.

She takes it. Instantly, flashes of images run through her mind. She sees him fighting out wars, exploring new places where there is no ice, seeing the outlines of dragons flying at the end of horizon. She watches at how he found his mate and had children, the his children had children. She sees him raises an army, protecting and defending the herd. A lot of things has happened, yet one thing remains the very same.

" _I see that we no longer commands the Lands_ ," is her comments. She does not sound disappointed, much because she knows that retrieving them will be easy.

" _My apologies, God of Amethyst_ ," Arkazaelch bows deeply.

" _No matter. There should be no trouble shall I desire to claim them back. I understand that you did what you did for the shake of the herd_ ," her tone remains serious until a smile breaks free. " _Now, shall we visit those grandchildren of yours? I want to see their faces._ "

Once again, he bows courteously. " _How about the other Gods?_ " Arkazaelch asks.

" _We shall get them in no time. But for now I wish to enjoy my time alone. I'm sure they will appreciate it._ "

It is another peaceful day at Kings' Landing, as fabricated that might be behind forced smiles. The King is on his way towards his Iron Throne, as always, when he sees something white falling into his cheek.

He touches his face, feeling the coldness. So it really is snow. But how can that be possible? It is in the middle of summer? How do snow get here?

A breeze runs pass the room, and workers who are carrying piles of paper are forced to chase down the pieces of parchments that are blown by the wind. Instead of dying down like how winds normally do, it grows stronger. The curtains are dancing madly, the clothes blown by the force of the wind. They can feel cold sipping into pass their thin clothing and their skin. It is chilling.

Suddenly bright light eradicates the room. It comes from the Iron Throne—no, behind it. The usual brick wall disappears, and instead of it a scenery of Winterfell appears.

More snow flies into the throne room. Strong wind furiously fly pass in, so loud that they can actually hear it. The King can see a pair of red spheres closing in from the distance. Seconds later, he notices that a shape of a face is followed, and that those are actually the eyes. A bush of huge, curly and long white strands crown the head. A pair of lips, form into a dangerous smile is playing on its lips. The white ghost steps into the throne room while his guards begin to circle, spears aimed and ready.

"What is _that_? And what is _it_ doing in my throne room?" the King asks to no one in particular annoyedly.

The white ghost circles around the throne, before placing herself on it, causing a few gasps.

 _Such disrespect!_ "Guards, kill it," the King orders angrily.

The guards begin to move, closing in to the creatures.

"My, my, such display of manner. I see that your kind is still as arrogant as ever," she comments, unimpressed. She locks eyes with them and mutter, "Kneel."

The entire room, including the King, drop on their knees. They do not understand how it happens, but it just does. They try to rebel from the force that overpowers their bodies, but their bodies does not seem to wish to abide what their mind wants. Not even an inch of their finger can be lifted. What on earth is happening?

"Now that's better. You should remember your place," she says, seemingly satisfied. She raises from the throne and approached the child with the golden crown on his head. He cannot be any older than…. what is the age range for a child again?

The God of Amethyst squints her eyes him. She reaches out a hand, causing the King's mind to be sent into a frantic. _What is going on? Why can't he move? Someone get her away from me!_

Slowly, she appears for he reaching for his neck. Outside, the King cannot even more an inch of his body. Inside, he is screaming out in fear. His breathing rages as her hand closes in, before it settles underneath his chin. She directs him to see her blood red eyes. They are as scary and they are beautiful.

"And that is beneath your God," she finishes her sentence.


	17. Dragonrose I

**Dragonrose**

* * *

 _Unbeknown to others, monsters raise from the dark to once again claim their marks and rule the lands._

* * *

 ** _Chapter 1_**

Maester Amethyst is one mysterious figure. She showed up at the doorsteps of Kings Landing ten years ago, with a black kitten in one hand and a scarlet bundle at the other. The girl claimed to be a distant relative of the King, which sounds very doubtful, considering the ivory color of her hair. The next day, the girl's hair became black, altered by a dip of tar. To further prove her alliance with the Baratheons, the King himself knighted her in front of noblemen and noblewomen alike.

"This is ridiculous," the Queen, Her Majesty Cersei Lanister, protests during knighting ceremony. King Robert has just finished knighting her, sword still hanging in the air next to Amethyst's face. It is so close that she can see the reflection of her eyes on the metal surface. _Sharp and clean-cut. This is a good masterpiece_ , she thinks. "How can a mere little girl becomes a knight of the Seven Kingdoms?" she stares down at the newly-appointed knight, who is not much older that her eldest son.

 _Mother is in rage_ , Joffrey thinks amusingly. _This should be interesting. Will the girl be imprisoned? Humiliated in public? Tortured? Or better yet, whipped in public so that everyone can see just how pathetic she is? He would like to see that pretty face begged in desperation._

"My Queen, I can assure you. Amethyst's ability is not to be doubt. She was crowned Maester barely a year ago," King Roberts says.

"If she truly is a Maester, then where are her chain? I fail to see anything circling her neck."

"My apologies. My chain simply wouldn't fit anymore. They snapped during my journey to King's Landing. I wanted to find a blacksmith, but I failed to find any that were open during my trip," Maester Amethyst answers in an apologetic tone. She is so polite and her voice is so soft to the ears. The girl seems to carry herself with this air of intelligence wiser beyond her age.

"That's fine. You can bring it to one of our royal blacksmiths," the King says.

"I still do not see how we can trust this little girl. Can she really perform her duties well? Would she be able to protect the royals as how it is expected from any other knights? Would she even be able to defend herself when the time comes?" the Queen interjects.

Amethyst finds herself rather distracted by the reflection that sword casts. It takes her a few seconds to realize the situation she is in, before she suggests, "Then how about a duel?"

Heads turn to her direction, some look at her like she has gone insane, while others simply rise their brows.

Turning his attention back to the girl knight in front of him, the King starts to speak, "Maester Amethyst, do you not need to—"

"That's a wonderful idea," the Queen cuts him, "servants, prepare the room. We shall have a duel arranged right here." The servants begin to move, getting all furniture out of the way. The nobles move back, leaving a circle at the center of the throne room.

"Who shall fight this girl knight, everybody? Any volunteer?" Cersei asks the audience. Head turns to one another left and right. Some sniggers at the thought. Who is willing enough to humiliate a little girl in front of the crowds?

Amethyst can see a few hands rising; a few noblemen and knights. This will be fun, their faces say. The Queen points a random noble and the man steps into the circle while his friends cheers for him.

The man is in his late thirties. He looks rather naive in her eyes. Not that wise, mostly reckless. His eyes are filled with greed, and she knows thirty stones on what to bet for.

"Let's make this more interesting, what we? Dare to make a bet, Lord Shelperd?" Amethyst asks as she allows herself to be acquainted with her surrounding.

"You've heard of me, then?" the man asks smugly. "About time my reputation proceeds beyond King's Landing. Very well. Let's make a small bet. You can be my slave when you lose."

"I will not be a good Royal Maester, if I do not know the name of its noblemen," Amethyst replies unaffectedly, causing Lord Shelperd to click his tongue. "And I shall have a crate of gold, if I do win. A fair bet, no? A lord such as yourself will think nothing of such a small amount, no?"

" _Royal Maester?_ What makes you think that you are one?" he asks mockingly. "But very well, you can have your gold, _if_ you can win."

"A Master is an expert in different fields of study, such as medicine and healing, money and accounting, warcraft and magic." _Yes, I am giving myself away. Take those clues, you foolish lamb._ "But no worries. I will strictly display my sword skills only today."

Lord Shelperd unsheathes his sword. His face grows with rage as he begins swinging his sword. His movement is rather awkward, much because he is not accustomed to holding a sword. Though there is a small amount of strength hidden behind it. "That's enough, you insolent—"

Amethyst disperses. One moment she is there, the next she is gone.

They blink. Next thing they know, the girl stands before Lord Shelperd, her sword running through his right at the dead center.

"What—?"

His sword cracks. It shatters into a million pieces like it is made out of clay, not iron.

Taking a step back, Amethyst smiles at the crowd, her facial expression remains as neutral as ever. Resting her sword against her shoulder, Amethyst brushes her fingertips against it fondly as if it is her pet.

They see the markings on her sword. There are pictograms embedded onto the piece of ironwork. Strange language and many borderlines. A creature of rose rest on the end of it, so close to its handle, surrounded by thorns. The creature was crafted so well it looks like it is about moments away from coming to live.

"I believe that you owe me a crate of gold now, Lord Shelperd. I will be expecting it to be delivered to my doorstep first thing tomorrow," Amethyst adds, averting their attention back to her. Then she turns to Queen Cersei. "I have proven myself to you in my sword skills, Your Grace. In time, I do hope that you can learn my other skills as well."

"H-how did you—?" Lord Shelperd asks, speechless.

"That is easy. I simply relied solely on speed. And I can tell that you are not that very accustomed to your weapon, which made it even much easier for her to impale your sword."

"But it's not just that, is it?" a new voice says. They turn to find the queen's brother, Lord Tyrion, speaking to the girl knight. "That sword of yours must have cost you quite a fortune."

Her eyes twinkle with newfound respect. Amethyst is a good judge of character. So good that somethings people becomes to typical in her eyes. And he is your typical intelligence. Who is in pain and in joy overtime. Yet again, aren't all humans are?

" _That_ , among other things," she speaks fondly of her sword as if it is a living thing. "It carries my heritage, this masterpiece of mine. I spent years improving it. Made out of adamantium, titanium and steel." _As well as the blood of its victims._ Yes, this weapon of hers has faced many countless battles. But that is a tale for another day to tell.

They allow her to retire to her chamber. The King has given her a rather nice room. It is fully decorated with expensive looking rags, patterned with complicated embroidery. The room has a wide poster bed and a set of wardrobed stored neatly inside a cabinet.

"That was rather reckless of you, Your Majesty," her black kitten turns into a boy dressed in an elegant-looking manservant uniform. Amethyst merely continues on her bathing, seemingly undisturbed by the sudden intrusion.

"Whatever do you mean?" she bats her eyelashes.

"Showing your sword and all. They could have recognized your sign," he says as he unbuttons his top, revealing a similar mark tattooed to his skin. It is located just underneath his chest, right at the center. The tattoo is red and it shows much more details compare to the one at the sword. A Dragonrose is resting on his ivory skin.

"But they didn't. Now join me, Alto."

Her servant complies, quickly stripping out of his clothing and stepping into the bathtub. He sits opposite of her allowing him a better view of her bodice. Even in her child-state appearance, she can still make his heart quicken just by one glance.

 _Smooth, soft, tender flesh._

Amethyst rises from her sitting position and crawls into his lap. He can feel the proof of his libido twitching against the lips of her sweet entrance when she places herself down on top of him. She leans in, her face going for the nape of his neck. The beautiful being moves her hips, engulfing his member the same time as she parts her lips and bites into his neck. Alto moans, loud and wild. The sensation is too delicious to be controllable. He pants and his heart beats even faster as his mistress devour him throughly. He starts to lose control and finds himself in a half-transform state—his cat ears and tails showing, twitching rapidly as his body spasms in the verge of orgasm.

Then finally, when he can not take it anymore. "M-mistre-ss…. You-r ma-jes…. I l-love yo-u," he mutters unconsciously, biting his teeth hard as he feels himself being consumed by ultimate bliss.

After their session of blood consumption, Amethyst carries her servant, knight and pet to the bed, drying him along the way.

"Rest well, my child, for tomorrow we shall turn this city upside down," she says to the already asleep Alto, planting a small kiss on his forehead.


	18. Dragonrose II

**Dragonrose**

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 ** _Chapter 2_**

Six summers has passed since the arrival of one enigmatic Maester Amethyst, whose character is still a mystery to all.

She always smiles and stays charming in public. Her words are polite and educated, and her beauty radiants throughout the blossoming years.

She is highly knowledgable, easy day showing new kind of deep layered intelligence. From the traditional dances of unknown lands beyond the sea, to the most complicated magical spells. From warcraft most effective strategies, to herbs and cures. From intruding and unseen construction techniques, down to the names of each stars and constellations. From economic, politic, and even as far as taming wild beasts.

The Maester seems to know it all. News of her excellence spread far and wide, gaining various impressions from good to bad. Some think that she will be a great addition to the kingdom for her services. Some suspects that she might conspire to dominate the power at King's Landing.

True enough, she now owns a few patches of land. Bought it from the gold she got from Lord Shelperd, most conclude.

The area used to be the poorest district in the kingdom. But thanks to Maester Amethyst and years of hard work and sacrifices, it grew and became richer. Not just in gold, but in intelligence and population as well. Aragale is it's new name. The people named it after her in honor of her help for years of dedication.

From fall to winter. It comes and goes, and spring entails, scraping snow from sight. And soon enough, summer is coming.

Amethyst has made a promise to herself that she must be away this summer. The King knows that and allows her absence.

They go hunting at the North side of the forest behind the palace one morning. Maester Amethyst manages to hit a few birds with her arrows, and the King is not so far behind.

"Nothing much to go on today," he comments disappointedly.

Amethyst flexes her neck. Her eyes remain sharp, staring into the distance at the deep forest. She inhales long. "There are a herd of deers in that area," she suggests.

Suddenly, her horse takes off, heading into the deeper part of the forest.

She swings her body to the side, body almost half floating off the horse.

Eyes on the price, Amethyst does not bat an eye when she takes aim on the herd of deers.

Releasing arrow, it launches off the air and goes straight through one of the deer's throat.

Swinging her body back in, Amethyst remains calm and slowly takes her time riding her horse towards the wounded animal.

Hopping off the horse, Amethyst proceeds to approaching the deer. It is still alive, moving. Its chest is huffing up and down in a rapid flex. Its eyes reflect the sadness that only some can see. It is suffering, she realizes. Quickly, she wraps a hand around its neck and breaks it with an audible snap.

She does a simple cleaning up by removing the arrow from its throat. The act causes blood to begin pouring out from the wound slowly.

Looking at the blood reminds her of what she actually is—a vampire. Hunting is one of her way of release. The palace—King's Landing—is only another playground she stops by. Sooner or later, she will have to move on again. People will get suspicious if she can't grow any older than seventeen (though Amethyst stopped aging in the age of fifteen of her vampire years).

The King arrives minutes later.

"That was magnificent as always, Maester," he praises her. He must have seen her shooting the arrow from afar.

"Thank you, King Robert. And congratulations. I heard that Prince Joffrey is getting engaged. You must be very excited." She knows she is, and she is not afraid to show it.

Looking at her in surprise, he comments, "I didn't expect you to be this delighted."

"And why shouldn't I be?" Sometimes, there's something about the way her eyes looks bottomlessly dark that it disturbs him. King Robert looks away and eyes the deer instead, as if there is something much more interesting with their daily catch.

"I don't know. You don't seem to be the type who celebrates joyfully."

"Well, we should, King Robert. After all, you know what it means," she pauses to see if he can figure out the answer. "Babies, King Robert. They'll be center of the celebrating," she tells him after a while, "the joy and pride of every parents. I always view young life as miracles."

"And life in general?"

"Full of pain and misery. I guess that's just the beauty of being human."

Joffrey's fiancé is the eldest Stark daughter, Sansa Stark. She comes with her father, Eddard Stark, who is choosen to become the King's Hand in place of Maester Amethyst during her absence.

The youngest daughter, Arya Stark, is not lady-like or house-orientated like her older sister. She is curious, energetic, and eager to learn. The Maester takes notice of that, thus one day she approaches the girl during her practice time (which often consist of her beating a badly handmade scarecrow with a wooden stick).

"Arya Stark, yes?" Amethyst walks closer, circling her new found interest.

The girl stops almost right away, her eyes grows wary as she leans the wood down nervously. There is recognition in her eyes, but also fear and respect. "You must be Maester Amethyst."

"Good, you know me already," she flashes a dazzling smile. "Then my next question won't be farfetched to you. Would you like to be my apprentice?"

"Me? Your apprentice? I'm honored," a smile begins to spread from the little girl's face. "But, why me? Aren't there thousands of parents who wish you'd teach their children? What's so special about me?"

"I see potential in you, girl. And I intend to teach you more than just sword-fighting. I happen to use other weapons too, you see."

"How is the preparation coming along?" a female voice asks.

It is minutes away from midnight. The wave is subtle but never quiet. Two hooded figures are standing on a wooden port.

"Everything is going as scheduled, Your Majesty," replies the male.

The hood reveals smooth porcelain skin, accompanied with a handsome face. With cheekbones that are high and prominent, he can just be another painfully beautiful man added to the list of being envy off in King's Landing.

Locks as dark as ink surround his facial features. His hair looks so silky to the touch, even Amethyst—who is known as the White Devil—can not help but being succumbed to the urge of combing her fingers through those locks.

It is the eyes, thought, that means the most.

The dark circles surround his eyes—thought some finds them creepy—only emphasize his dark beauty. His eyes are velvet red—only in the presence of Her Majesty—framed with thick eyelashes. But it is the love that reside profoundly in those eyes that is the most beautiful to gaze upon.

"Alto," Amethyst smiles at the now grown young man, "wonderful job. I'm so proud you."

He smiles and leans in for a kiss, but Amethyst turns her head at the last minute. He stops.

"Not until I see it," she wraps her hand around his and pulls him into a warehouse at the edge of the port, were they hide the ship.

The ship is not to be underestimated. It floats on a full height of fifty feet above water. To say it is intimidating is natural. The thing looks firm and able to crush anything that goes against its course.

"Pure iron from top to bottom," Alto smiles back at her, somewhat shyly, "just as you've ordered, Your Majesty."

Her emotionless facial features unnerves him. Did he do something wrong? Is there anything not to her liking—

He feels his collar being yanked forward. A pair of cold, sensual lips meet his in mid air. He almost melts right away.

She is kissing him! It does not matter how many times she kisses him. Each time always feel like the first time. So sweet and consuming. So powerful. Luscious.

"—Your Majesty," he manages to raps in between kisses. She closes the distance between them and takes his breath away. Literally.

A few minutes into the kiss and he starts to feel light-headed. Even a creature such as him—cat turned human—still needs air to breathe.

When he thinks that things can not get any better, he feels her hand palms his erection. He moans into the kiss as she brushes her fingers through the fabric, making him wet.

"Uuurrrgggghh….!" he groans throughout the administration until he eventually comes heavily, staining his dark pants. Luckily, there is no one around to see it.

Or any of the acts they are committing right at the moment, for that matter.

Eventually, when he is about to pass out, Amethyst releases his mouth. He can not help but lean into her as his muscles go weak. Her figure—though an inch shorter than him—is able to support him without hassle.

"Thank you," she whispers as he falls into a state of unconsciousness. Even after all these years….


End file.
